Blind Gods Novels & Stories

He turned to face me again. His chest heaved with rage. Veins pulsed across his tattooed arms. His green eyes locked on me—those sightless eyes. They were hauntingly still. So still, they looked like they didn’t belong to the living. They were beautiful in a strange way, like something carved into his skull—empty, but alive with something darker. His blindness didn’t weaken him. It made him unreachable.

Wings beating in unison, Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel behind us, with the army flooding in after. “You know, this would be way easier if you all didn’t glow like divine glow sticks,” I mutter toward Michael. “We bear the Godhead’s light,” he answers, his voice as serene as it is unsettling. “It cannot be hidden. You’ll understand when you’ve ascended and your sins are wiped away.” Yeah, I’m not a fan of the whole cult-like devotion to the Godhead vibe. I’m drawn to it, sure—but that’s the scary part. I snort. Win does too.

Even the concealed great figures of doom were surprised. "Heavenly Martial God Fist." Brantley's punch was not weak by any means. Doombringer Knuckle sent him hurtling toward the ground. Brantley managed to steady himself just in time, though his feet still smashed into the earth, embedding deeply. "Gideon, I'm going to end you." "Is talking all you're good at? Can you actually do something?" "This is on you!" Brantley yelled, releasing an unusual gray mist. As soon as the mist appeared, the onlookers, especially the natives of Asgard Plains, all turned pale with fear. Many recognized its danger.

“I’ve tried. They won’t speak with me. Last night was the first time I’ve heard from any of the gods.” Brynn narrowed her eyes. “You said the thirteen figures all had red eyes?” Amerie nodded. Brynn rubbed the back of her neck and glanced toward Blaze. “The Ancients.” “What?” Amerie and Apollo gasped in unison. Blaze sighed. “The Ancients were said to have red eyes. They are tall and all look different— humanoid, but not human.” “How do you know this?” Mae questioned suspiciously.

Months had passed, and Storm was growing like wildfire beneath a summer moon. Every day, something new sparked in him, a sound, a laugh, a light. His eyes glowed like molten lava, liquid gold swirling like a firestorm, just like his father’s. When sunlight hit them just right, it looked as if the lava of creation itself burned behind his irises. Blaise called it his mark. Ryker called it a warning. Kira only smiled knowingly. “Fire and storm,” she said. “The gods made sure the world would never forget those eyes.”

The sacred images on the windows and doors all seemed to stare at me, freaking me out as they blinked consistently, even the statue of the crucified Christian Messiah was also blinking at me. " You killed us", little Malia said, standing beside the altar, " all of us", I turned to behold a multitude of children and teenagers, all having Malia's face, enraged and slowly approaching me, " all of us!" the sacred images said, their voices louder, sounding ghostly as they submerged from the windows and the doors, maintaining their two-dimensional structure as they all took on the face of little Malia, joining the barricade in approaching.

Teradin scoffed in disgust, his face wrinkling more than it already was from age. "Not Truth, General," Levlin corrected. "They speak of other gods, specifically the goddess of war and..." his brows furrowed in thought. "Someone called the Night's blue." At this Teradin barked a derogatory laugh. "Fear will make a man see anything. Apparently, it makes savages see gods."

I leave it in her pocket, and I leave it under my conscience, and I understand, as I sit alone in the archive room with the smell of her soap still in the air, that in this house a gift and a test have always been the same word. I understand something else, too. The version of myself that swore the oath at Lorenzo's grave is still standing behind my shoulder, and he is watching me, and he is waiting to see what I will become. But tonight, for the first time since I came back from Buenos Aires, I am not sure which of us is the ghost. Outside the high north window, the olive groves are black. The road is still gone. Somewhere in the dark, Serafina Bellini is unfolding a map of all the doors in

Gabriel felt a pang of pain to the state his nephew in, the black mist that was invisible to all of the heroes and Sotiras sight was gradually revealed as Gabriel put a lot of pressure on it. The Sotiras and Heroes was gradually panicking as they ran into the corner and was at the same time using their power to block off this mist, but no one ever can make the black mist go away from the. One after another, one of the heroes stopped and tripped, the black mist touch a little bit of the helm of his shirt, turning it into ash that made the owner of the helm of the shirt that was turned into ash to widen his eyes, and before he could stand up again to run for his life, the black mist pas throug

The darkness within the bowl began to churn, transforming into a glowing mist that rose toward the ceiling. Slowly, the mist joined together. Two elderly women appeared within the cloud—not physically, but mentally, their spirits anchoring to the ritual from opposite corners of the wolf kingdom. We were the Three Blind Sisters, Seers who had once bound our souls together before the kingdom had torn our circle apart. One of them let out a soft, crackling laugh that sounded like dry autumn leaves. “You've finally remembered we're still alive, Lira,” Nira murmured, her spirit shifting within the mist.